


Boone's Room

by insominia



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Comfort, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: At some point, the courier notices that Boone never returns to his room. Then she notices he never talks about it. Then he tells her to drop it. So, of course, she has to explore it for herself.





	Boone's Room

It was only the fourth, maybe the fifth time that they returned to Novac that the courier noticed it. Not that he drew attention to it but Boone had a distinct tendency to give his own room a wide berth. Out of habit they always bunked in Six's room, one of them in the bed, the other on the sofa. Even in this most defensible of locations, knowing they were safe, old habits died hard and they still bunked together. But Boone wouldn't so much as venture near his old place and hadn't been back since the night she made him the offer to join her on her travels. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but when she noticed how he stayed away she realised he hadn't ever been back to pick anything up, not even the night they left.

She was cooking them supper when she broached it, perhaps the smell of steak would make him amenable to conversation. He sometimes talked while she cooked if only to tease her that she was too young to use the stove. "You've never shown me around your place."  
He didn't reply at once. "No," he said, evenly. And that was that.

Six recognised that tone. The tone he hadn't used since they had first left Novac and every answer to any question was either one word or a firm, 'drop it.' It had taken a few months of killing legionaries before he'd ventured into single sentences, and not until they'd cleared both Cottonwood Cove _and_  The Fort that he had opened up. Or at least, spoken of the things that had gone on before. She opened her mouth to speak again when he cut across her, "drop it." The matter was closed.

Of course, that just made her more curious but she didn't mention it again. Not until their next pass of Novac anyway. Casually, as they entered the courtyard she called, "your place or mine?"  
"Yours," he said, gruffly, already heading up the steps to her room.

The time after that they hadn't even made it as far as the town limits. They were leaving Forlorn Hope, having just made the decision to head over there when he snapped, "and my room is not up for discussion." They were eating that night when she tentatively asked, "so...there a reason your room isn't up for discussion?"   
He sighed, heavily and pushed away the remains of his steak, "it's just not," he snapped and he left his half-eaten food, finding solace elsewhere.

He must have known she would go. She was always curious. Too curious. He used to say it was her greatest flaw as they set off into _another_ dead end cave.

It was the courier's turn on the sofa but she did not sleep, instead waiting until she heard the steady breathing that told her he was a goner. With silent movements, she slipped from the room and down the steps.

His door wasn't locked. Boone still owned it and without Jeannie May around anymore it's not as though anyone had rented the place to someone else. Six glanced around herself and then, assuring herself that Boone wasn't about to step out and blow her head off, she stepped inside.

She was surprised to find it so ordinary. What had she expected? A weird tomb to Carla with all her things preserved in perfect condition? Dead legionaries strung up on the wall? Because there was nothing. Nothing even to suggest this place belonged to Boone. There was nothing significant or recognisable as his at all. The radio was still on, some whisky bottles dotted about the place, a load of empties in the bathroom, some buffout in the sink under a smashed mirror. It looked like every other motel room they'd ever been in. Maybe it was just because it was the place he shared with his wife, maybe it was just the bad memories. The feeling of uncomfortable shame washed over Six, she should have trusted him, after all, what had she really expected?

It wasn't until she was leaving that she saw the knife. It lay on the floor, crusted with dried blood, lying in what looked like it had once been a puddle of the same. She stared at it for a moment.   
Empties in the bathroom.   
Knife on the floor.   
Buffout in the sink.  
Blood.   
Oh.

When Boone woke he only had to look at her to know. Six sat on the end of the couch looking over at him when his eyes opened and saw her. " _Goddammit_!" he snarled, without needing to be told.

She didn't say anything, neither did he. Eventually, the courier moved to the side of the bed and reached out for his arms. He didn't shy away, there was no point now. She examined Boone's arms, tracing with her fingers the patchwork of scars and gouges that mirrored her own, except she'd always assumed he'd received them the same way she had, ducking and dodging the worst of the Mojave.

"The night we met?" she asked, so softly he strained to hear her.

He pulled his arms from her, not impatiently and shrugged, "chickened out. Freaked out a bit when I saw all the blood. Loaded myself up with stimpaks and went back on duty."

The courier fell silent, noting for the first time that one arm was significantly more marred than the other. "Oh Craig," she breathed, using the name she had never used, and to then, to his surprise, she hugged him. For a moment he wasn't sure what to do, but when it became clear she wasn't going to release him he awkwardly returned the embrace. "I'm so sorry," Six whispered against him, but Boone shrugged her off.

"Got nothing to be sorry about. Hell if I hadn't met up with you..." he let the thought trail off. They sat there together, on the bed, for a long time, with the courier just holding one of his hands.

After a while she asked, "do you...still think about it?"

"No. Used to. Then I figured I got bad things coming to me anyway. Couldn't rob karma of that punishment."

"And now?"

"I'm not so sure."

She seemed relieved, but when Boone caught her eye he saw that they were wet with tears. That surprised him. He figured she'd be angry, to rant and rail at him, call him an idiot, tell him he was stupid. But she was just...sad. He knew she cared about him, he thought it was because she was young and didn't know any better. But, if he thought about it, he couldn't remember anyone caring about him like this. Carla loved him, but she didn't know. Nor could she have, even if he'd told her. Six knew. And what's more, she understood, even if she was just a kid.

Beside him, the courier was shifting to the head of the bed, where she made herself comfortable against the pillows. She reached out to him, though for a moment Boone didn't move, wondering what it was the girl intended. When he hadn't responded, she pulled him down beside her, wrapped an arm around him and rested his head against her chest.

At first, it was strange, especially given how much bigger than her he was to lie like this, but after a while it felt...nice, as much as he didn't want to admit it. For Boone who had always been the protector, always the stronger one even when he didn't feel it it was as disconcerting and embarrassing to be comforted like this. But it was ok, and for the first time in a long time, maybe ever if he was honest, he felt safe.

 


End file.
